


Voyeur

by zoemargaret



Series: Manager Verse [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:37:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemargaret/pseuds/zoemargaret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bojan's a naughty (but legal!) boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voyeur

_**Fic: Voyeur (Bojan/Pep)**_  
  
Title: Voyeur  
Pairing: Pep Guardiola/Bojan Krkić  
Rating: NC-17  
Word Count: 1500  
Summary: Bojan's a naughty (but legal!) boy.   
Disclaimer: I don't know these people and so, obviously, this is not true.

 

While his teammates shower, Bojan fiddles with his phone. He types out the lyrics of a popular song and texts it to his mom (who never checks her messages). Checks his email, EPL and Serie A scores. He smiles and jokes as one by one the other men dry off, dress, and leave. After about twenty minutes, his uniform is attracting attention, so he slowly strips and gets his gear for the shower. By the time he's actually turning on the water, the last members have left, all planning how to celebrate their win.

He runs soapy hands over his chest, his stomach, his hips, his cock. Runs a slippery fist over it, palm circling the head, before he regretfully lets go. He's spent a long time planning this fantasy, and he's not going to let post-goal adrenaline ruin it. Turns his face into the water and lets it rinse off the soap. Grabs a handful of gel and scrubs his legs and his ass, making sure he's clean as he replays the goal in his head. Xavi had passed to Leo, who'd laid it out perfectly, ball floating to Bojan's feet. The goalie'd never had a chance. He shivers at the memory of the crowd's roar, his teammates grabbing him, Guardiola's kiss on his forehead as he was substituted.

One more rinse and he turns off the water, slicking back his hair as he grabs his towel. He pads into the changing room, his bag waiting for him on one of the benches. After quickly rubbing himself dry, he spreads the towel along the bench and sits down next to the open bag. His breath speeds up and his hands tremble with excitement as he takes out his favorite dildo and lube. He's been smuggling it after every game for the last month, just waiting for his opportunity. And now, finally alone, he has it.

Bojan eyes his surroundings thoughtfully. He's probably not going to be able to do this again so he might as well make the most of it. He angles himself so he can see himself in the mirror opposite and brings the dildo to his lips. God he loves this part, licking a hard cock, his tongue flickering over the head. Of course, it'd be better with a man attached to the cock, but there are always reasons why that's not a good idea, so this is what he gets. He sucks on the head, his cheeks hollowing obscenely as he watches himself in the mirror. Tilting his head back slightly, he pushes the dildo down his throat, sliding it in and out. He gags once, but persists. In the mirror, his face is bright red and he's gasping for air; he moans at the sight. Enough.

He fumbles for the lube and spills some on his hand. He clambers onto his knees on the bench and bends over, turning his head so he continues to face the mirror. He reaches back and eases in the tip of his finger. He just strokes for a moment, the muscle gradually loosening, then slips in the rest of his finger. Fuck it feels so good. Twists it around, searching for that one spot. He gasps and shudders, eyes slamming shut; found it. He slides another finger in, the slight burn forcing a whimper from his lips. He scissors his fingers, spreading the lube and readying himself. Then, impatient, he pulls out his fingers and grabs the dildo. Positioning it at his entrance, he opens his eyes to watch in the mirror.

He sees a wide eyed naked boy holding a dildo. His cheeks and throat are flushed red. He's bent over obscenely and he's pushing the head of a dildo into himself.

Pep Guardiola is transfixed in the doorway, eyes wide and dark.

Bojan yelps and drops the dildo. It clatters loudly on the floor, and both men's eyes follow it. It takes everything Bojan has to meet Pep's eyes in the mirror. He's terrified. Even through the mirror, his eyes are burning. Bojan digs his fingers into the bench in preparation for movement, but Pep beats him. He pushes away from the door and walks over to the bench. He puts a hand on Bojan's back as he picks up the toy.

"Pep, Coach," Bojan starts, his voice high in his throat. "It's--" Pep pushes down on his back and Bojan closes his mouth. Once it's obvious that Bojan's not to speak, Pep's hand wanders back to his ass. A probing finger traces his hole, dips in. Bojan doesn't even blink, too intent on the dual vision and sensations. Pep looks down until he finds the lube and picks it up. Without looking at Bojan, he calmly unscrews the cap and spills some onto the dildo. Puts the bottle down and runs his fist over the toy, coating it with lubricant. Bojan gasps at the sight of Pep Guardiola fisting a dildo and he digs his fingers into the bench. He _wants_ so badly. He's afraid to speak, to move, to breathe in case this all disappears.

Toy slicked to his satisfaction, Pep spreads his free hand right above Bojan's ass, holding him still. He looks down, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "It's obvious what you're here for," he places the head of the dildo at Bojan's opening, "So I'm not going to ask permission," he says calmly.

Bojan lets out a choked groan as the dildo slides into him, smooth and unrelenting. He clenches his fists into the bench, fighting to accept the intrusion. Once the toy is settled all the way in, Pep stills. "Open your eyes," he commands, and Bojan does. Pep is still looking at him, eyes burning even brighter. "Fuck," he mutters at whatever he sees in Bojan's pleading face and his arm jerks. Bojan mewls at the pressure on his prostate and he involuntarily jerks his hips back, pushing for more. Pep slides his hand up Bojan's back to urge his shoulders down, forcing his ass higher. When he's satisfied with the new position, he starts a steady in and out motion with the toy.

Bojan's panting, pleasure growing throughout his body, tingling in his fingers, his toes. Pep's hitting his prostate with every stroke, a little dig on the end of each one making him hiccup little wails of pleasure. He still can't look away from the mirror. Pep, intense committed proper Pep Guardiola, is fucking him with a sex toy. Fuck it's so good Bojan can't stand it. He shifts, trying to free a hand to stroke himself, but Pep notices. He doesn't say anything but his strokes become faster, harder, forcing Bojan to hold onto the bench with both hands for leverage. He whimpers in protest, but it only makes Pep fuck him harder.

Bojan's open mouthed now, gasping for air against Pep's forceful strokes. He looks completely debauched in the mirror, a sweaty moaning mess. His eyes are open wide, blown dark with lust, and he blushes even harder as he catches Pep's eyes again. His coach's face is still calm, the only hint that he's doing something illicit in his dark intense eyes. He makes sure Bojan's looking at him, then flicks his eyes down to his hand fucking Bojan's hole, then looks back up at him. Bojan whimpers again, in shame or excitement he doesn't know. Finally, Pep's calm cracks. A faint line of red stains his cheekbones. "Bojan," he says hoarsely. Bojan mewls high in his throat and pushes back, trying to get as close as he can.

Suddenly Pep's hand is on his cock. At the same time, he _shoves_ the dildo in and Bojan screams in surprise, then pleasure as Pep strokes his cock once, twice. He arches his back, pushing up to the dildo and down into Pep's hand, and comes in a blinding wave. He tightens around the toy as Pep squeezes and coaxes the last of his orgasm from him.

"Fuck," he breathes, sagging down. He's completely wrung out, satiated; he feels better than when he scored the goal. At some point his eyes closed. He opens them now and searches out Pep's. Pep is still watching him, and Bojan catches his breathe sharply at the burning hunger in his eyes. Pep inhales deeply, shoulder shuddering, then looks down. He carefully places the dildo down on the bench behind Bojan. He brushes a gentle hand across the knobs of Bojan's spine, the contact warm and comforting. And then he's gone.

Bojan stays on the bench. Looks at the fucked out, blissful boy in the mirror. And wonders.

  


End file.
